


Unstoppable Force and Immovable Object

by lilsmartass



Series: First Impressions and Second Chances [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, everyone thinks their affections are unrequited and Natasha doesn't see how this is her problem, getting together fic, past bullying, past hinted Steve/Howard (but not really), team coming together, the boys finally talking and clearing up misconceptions about each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsmartass/pseuds/lilsmartass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Tony has feelings for Steve, but with a past that can be most charitably described as rocky, how can he possibly hope for Steve to return them? Part 5 of the First Impressions and Second Chances series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately, though considering what I put them through, probably for the best.  
> Warning/Spoilers: ANGST, unacknowledged romantic feelings and references to past bullying  
> Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, slash, get-together  
> Beta: kerravon. All remaining mistakes are mine.  
> A/N: I'm BACK. Sorry this took so long guys, my undying gratitude to those who have stayed with me. I hope you enjoy part 5.

** Unstoppable Force and Immovable Object **

 

Tony’s relationship to Captain America had been complicated since he was about ten years old. Before that, when he was very, very small, the idea of his dad honestly _knowing_ Captain America, and Auntie Peggy nearly _marrying_ him had been nothing short of amazing. However, double digits brought a little maturity to balance his technological genius, and the realisation that Dad had _liked Cap better_ burnt a fair bit of that glamour out.

The rational, logical part of his brain had known that it was only natural. Captain America was everything good and perfect in mankind. The world had needed him during the war, and still did, so it was only fair that Dad would have been the first in line to throw Tony into the ocean if it would have brought Captain America out of it. But the small, hidden part of him that had cried when he learned that Santa and the tooth fairy weren’t real had never known how to even attempt to cope with the burden of not being good enough; as he grew older that had solidified into bright, hard-edged fury. What kind of father compared their child to a superhero? A superhero who had helped win the Second World War? How was that fair?

The insecurity had never gone away.

Then, when they finally met, Steve turned out to be everything Tony had always been told he was…and he didn’t think Tony was good enough, either. He had believed he was genuinely going to die. Just…die. What was so wrong with him that not only his own parents but the best person who had ever existed all thought that he was a waste of space? He was a genius. He could create things that other people couldn’t even imagine. He was _Iron Man_. He saved people. What was so awful inside him that it nullified all that?

Nowadays, he mostly just tries not to think about it. He and Steve have reached an understanding, and the tower is a much nicer place to live because of it. He’s not stupid enough to believe that their relationship is anything like he used to imagine when he was still young enough to play pretend, but he’s a colleague, and a trusted one. On the battlefield at least, Steve trusts Tony to have his back and the backs of the others. In terms of life and death situations, Steve knows he’d do anything for them. In life and death situations, he knows Steve would do the same.

After all they’ve been through, they’re even friends. You know, sort of. It’s more than he could ever have hoped for.

Which should be fine. It really would be fine. Tony doesn’t need friends. He certainly doesn’t need to be friends with Captain America just because he was his boyhood hero, and would have been his Uncle Steve if his Auntie Peggy had had the life she’d dreamed of in her twenties. Unfortunately, he has started to have, well…feelings for Steve.

He should have expected it really. It was unconscionably stupid for him not to have prepared for this inevitability. Captain America, or better, Auntie Peggy’s _Steve_ _Rogers_ , has been the stuff his wet dreams have been made of since he hit puberty.

Steve is everything he has ever wanted: strong and beautiful, capable and honourable, unflaggingly brave and selflessly heroic. Pepper was everything he had ever loved in his dreams of Captain America. The _real_ Steve is so much better, so much more, than he could have imagined.

Tony _wants_ him. He’s never wanted anything in his life the way he wants Steve, and it actually makes him want to curl up under a blanket and sob like a child to know that there is no chance that the feeling will ever be reciprocated. Steve might not hate him the way he did in the beginning. He might have realised that Tony has some redeeming features in battle, and in terms of being able to create everything they could ever need. Still, he’s hardly going to want to start bumping uglies.

See, if _that_ were all he wanted, Tony could live with that too. First, there’s a good chance he could get Steve into bed anyway. Steve might be pure and virtuous and so far above Tony that standing them next to each other is like putting a power station pumping out endless toxic waste in the middle of a beautiful, peaceful forest, previously untouched by humanity, but Tony has a long and established routine. He’s good at convincing people to use him for one night stands. Steve might be the pinnacle of perfection and more morally upstanding than anyone has a right to be, but he’s only human. Second, contrary to popular belief, he's been rejected before. He’s been rejected before by people he cares about. The less said about the awkward night at MIT that he threw himself at Rhodey the better. He can live with unrequited sexual tension. He has a right hand and a perfectly good imagination. He could even have JARVIS play clips of Steve’s voice, clips wildly out of context, to make it sound like he was saying dirty things.

What he wants is…God, it’s embarrassing even to admit it. What he wants with Steve are the things he could never give Pepper: stability, constancy, commitment. Forever.

Pepper’s stronger than he can even articulate. Pepper walked away from him because she knew that he couldn’t give her what she wanted. She had the strength to hold out for that and not take what little he was offering. And she had the strength not to _blame_ him for the fact that he’s fucking useless. He now knows for a _fact_ that he can’t do the same.

He has dozens of properties. He has the perfect excuse. All he’d have to do is mutter something about the misunderstandings when Steve had first moved in, and he’s pretty sure that Steve would make the guilty face and let him do whatever he wanted. It probably wouldn’t even cost him his place on the Avengers. It would give him some space, it would let him get over Steve. Whatever the hell that means. And though he thinks that – assuming he had anything _resembling_ the self-respect to walk away from half smiles and polite questions when that’s absolutely not what he wants – he wouldn’t blame Steve, he thinks it might push him to be the closest to suicidal he’s been since his mid-twenties, if you don’t count the whole palladium poisoning thing.

Worse is the fact that apparently, back in the dark ages, Steve and Dad had a…thing. It was one thing to know that Dad liked Captain America better than him, it was totally another to know that an ex-lover was more important than his own child.

No, wait, strike that. Worse is the fact that he wants Steve _anyway_. What is _wrong_ with him? Quite aside from the knowledge that it feels desperately wrong, is the certainty that it is doing his self-respect – fragile at best – no good to know that he’s lusting after his dad’s ex-conquest.

But it’s fine, Tony has worked out a fool-proof way of dealing with this. He’s just going to hide in his workshop and make things until he forgets about it. It won’t even ruin the friendship they have managed to cobble together because it doesn’t run the risk of his snapping at Steve and saying something appallingly offensive. Steve won’t even have to see him. Not that Steve will want to see him after what happened yesterday. They’d been in the TV room, and Tony had slipped and fallen. Steve, because he’s chivalrous and amazing like that, had caught him, and like an idiot, Tony had leaned up to kiss him. Of course, Steve had dropped him like a hot potato, made a few incomprehensible sounds and left.

He thinks not seeing Steve might actually kill him, but he has to do this or he’s going to something really stupid and either scream abuse at him just to make him _go away_ – not because that’s what he wants, but because that’s Tony’s extremely healthy way of dealing with problems – or backing him into a corner at the next PR event and groping him. But sometimes Steve just _looks_ at him in a way that makes him think that maybe…maybe…this isn’t just him. He knows he’s imagining it, and so far he’s managed to hold back, you know, mostly, but it’s only a matter of time before Steve does that cute crinkle eyes thing when Tony’s full of whiskey and then it’s fifty/fifty as to which way he’ll go. And if – when – he does, he knows he’ll lose what little of Steve’s friendship he’s managed to win, and that, he really couldn’t bear.

So, as of now, Tony is planning on staying there until the awkwardness dissipates, or at least until he can make Steve worry enough about him locked away down there to ignore just one little transgression. It’s a horrible, manipulative thing to do he knows, but he really has no other ideas and the idea of losing Steve completely, forever, makes him feel sick.

So workshop.

He has a ton of stuff he’s supposed to get done for SI anyway. Pepper will be thrilled with him, she’ll probably even run interference for him with SHIELD and keep him out of anything that’s not actively threatening the world. That will not only give him time to get over Steve, but an easy escape from boring meetings. It’s a win. That’s how he’s counting it anyway.

“JARVIS, what time is it?”

“It is still 2:47, sir. It has only been six seconds since your last query.”

Tony sighs and twirls his screwdriver. He dips his head and examines the schematics for the new Starkpad. He knows Pepper wants to have them on the market for Christmas. “What about now?”

“Well, sir. Now it is 2:48.” JARVIS is definitely getting annoyed.

“Really? I thought for sure that piece of staring was an engineering blackout. It’s still Tuesday?”

“Yes, sir. It is still Tuesday.”

“Huh.”

He fiddles with the things on his bench. Then examines the schematics before making a couple of minor adjustments because whoever thought that would work was clearly insane. The new Starkpad is more than just new, shiner casing. “What time is it now?”

“It is 2:58, sir.”

“Oh.” Tony picks up the screwdriver again.

“Perhaps, sir,” JARVIS begins. Tony looks up, partly because he’s eager for the distraction and partly because JARVIS’ tone is less caustic than it has been in, well, eleven minutes apparently.

“Yeah?”

“Perhaps you should reconsider doing this work at this time. It would seem that you are not fully invested.”

“Don’t patronise me, J,” Tony snaps. He drops into a chair with a sigh and spins around in it, feet slappiing on the ground.

JARVIS clears his throat delicately, and Tony immediately stops what he’s doing. He forces the blush off his cheeks though he can still feel it crawling up the back of his neck. He’s not five, he’s a fully grown genius. He really should be over spinning around in a whirly chair.

“I am not patronising you, sir. I am simply suggesting that if you create anything less than a flawless SI product, Ms. Potts will be less than pleased.”

“Please, I could make this if I was actually asleep. A couple of distractions aren’t going to change anything. And I don’t think threatening me with Pep is within the bounds of your Do No Harm programming.”

“I have no such programming, Sir, as well you know. In fact, ever since the change in my programming eight months ago, I am at perfect liberty to gas even you to death in this very workshop.”

Tony shook his head, hands drumming an idle tune on the bench. “That’s weird, J. Weird and creepy. And my point still stands.”

“As you say.”

Tony huffs, and twirls in his chair one more time.

“Would you care to talk about it, sir?”

“No…no. You don’t like Steve, so I doubt you are going to be a sympathetic or impartial audience.”

“I have no objection to Captain Rogers, sir.”

“That’s not true. Since when have you had the ability to lie?”

“I also have no programming that requires me to be truthful, sir.” JARVIS says, still calm. “But I have never lied to you.”

Tony rummages in his desk drawer, unearthing the hip flask he has in there, left over from the last PR event. He takes a sip. Bourbon.

“I will listen, sir,” JARVIS says gently.

Tony screws up his face. “I’m...God, JARVIS. I have…and Steve is…He’s so amazing.” He ran his hand through his hair, making it all stand on end, and starts again. “He’s everything I ever wanted, J. But I couldn’t even make it work with Pepper, who already knew what a fuck up I am, not least because the person I can talk to about my non-existent relationship is an AI I made myself. No offense.”

“None taken, sir. And, though perfect is not the adjective _I_ would ascribe to Captain Rogers, I do see the appeal. And he seems a reformed character from the ungrateful vicious bully who first moved in here. I also do not believe I am the only person you could talk to, though I appreciate the compliment. Whilst I understand that speaking to Ms. Potts would be extremely insensitive given your history, I’m sure Colonel Rhodes would be happy to listen.”

Tony rubs a hand over his face and chokes out a laugh. “Rhodey would kill us both. Me for being so pathetic and Steve for the fact that somehow my lusting after him would inevitably be his fault in Rhodey’s mind. I’m sure Steve would appreciate your vote of confidence though.”

JARVIS makes that sound, the only one that Tony has never been able to get right. Instead of a sigh, it sounds like a rush of static. “Sir, Captain Rogers has saved your life on numerous occasions. Ever since the original situation was resolved he has done nothing but prove that he cares for you at least as much as any other member of the team, and, in any case, I would monitor his behaviour and, as I pointed out earlier, I have no safe guards.”

“Ooooookay. We’re back to creepy. Besides, I’m not- I can’t…he doesn’t feel the same and if I make a move and it’s awkward for him, which it would have a right to be for any number of reasons, it will rip the team apart, and I can put the Avengers ahead of my libido. I’m an adult.”

“As you say,” the AI repeats tonelessly.

“That was bitchy, JARVIS. Bitchy and unnecessary.”

There’s a definite smirk in the AI’s voice as he responds. “As you say, _sir_.”

Tony takes another deep swallow of the bourbon. He’s beginning to feel the first stages of being tingly and warm. He should probably have eaten lunch, or breakfast for that matter.

“Alternatively of course, you could ignore my advice and simply drink yourself into an inebriated state.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I thought so.”


	2. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Tony has feelings for Steve, but with a past that can be most charitably described as rocky, how can he possibly hope for Steve to return them? Part 5 of the First Impressions and Second Chances series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately, though considering what I put them through, probably for the best.  
> Warning/Spoilers: ANGST, unacknowledged romantic feelings and references to past bullying  
> Beta: kerravon. All remaining mistakes are mine.  
> Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, slash, get-together  
> A/N: Next week's chapter will be late as next weekend I'm flying back to the UK, but I hope this tides you over until then.

**Unstoppable Force and Immovable Object**

 

Steve is pretty sure there are levels of hell. And he is pretty sure that he is living in at least the fifth one, possibly deeper. Not only had he screwed things up in the worst way possible, badly hurting someone who had only ever tried to be his friend, but now he is in love with that person. It’s like one of those ridiculous soap operas Thor’s addicted to.

It does mean that Steve’s entirely sure he will never make this mistake again though, and he does try to find the silver lining in even the darkest cloud. He has never regretted something so deeply in his life as he does his behaviour towards Tony when they first met. If he had just behaved better…if he’d just made the smallest effort, maybe now he’d be able to muster enough courage to ask him out.

Steve sighs and thumps his head back against his pillow. Probably not.

Even if he hadn’t made a public attempt to utterly crush Tony’s spirit, it’s not like he could ever hope to be good enough for him. Tony is a genius, brilliant and compassionate and hands down the bravest man Steve has ever known, not to mention being absolutely beautiful. Even if Steve hadn’t already proven himself the worst kind of scum, Tony has far better people than Steve Rogers falling over themselves for a scrap of his attention.

Really, he should just be grateful that Tony will be his friend. Steve hasn’t exactly admitted it, but he considers Tony his best friend in this time. He and Thor, both outsiders in this world, have great fun together exploring this new version of New York. He has a blast with Clint, thinks of him as the younger brother he never had, but he’ll never share the past with him that Natasha and Agent Coulson do, never understand him like that. It’s Tony who he spends the majority of his time with, and though he would take on Loki solo any day rather than risk his team to the mad demi-god’s whims, if he had to be stuck in Loki’s crazy world with anyone, he would have chosen Tony.

Despite what he wants, Steve won’t risk that friendship for anything. Certainly not for an impossible dream.

He knows Tony likes men as well as women. The way he came about that knowledge still makes his skin prickle with shame. No matter how many steps forward he and Tony take, no matter how close they are now, the stain of his shame will never fade. He’s past following Tony around apologising, which is probably the only reason they have been able to move forward the way they have.   While he knows Tony has forgiven him, regardless of how little he deserves it, he still feels the sickening guilt every time Tony does something nice for him that he doesn’t deserve. It’s not quite as crippling as the guilt from the realization that, after weeks of forcing himself not to cringe in Steve’s presence, Tony had unthinkingly overcome his own discomfort in his effort to try to comfort Steve over the whole Captain America Party Entertainer debacle.

He doesn’t deserve even to _think_ of Tony like that.

He can’t even content himself with the knowledge that he has been able to successfully hide it from Tony and not make their friendship awkward. He’d been careful, he’d done his best to leave before he just _had_ to say something, or had to reach out and touch. Then last night he’d ruined it, ruined everything by pulling back and running off to his room.

They’d been screwing about in the TV room and Tony had stumbled over a cushion tossed to the floor. It had been reflex to catch him, deeper than habit to save Tony from the fall by grabbing him around the waist and pulling him close. The _look_ on Tony’s face, flushed and laughing, eyes dark as he pretended to swoon, made Steve pull him even closer without thinking, instinctively moving to kiss him until he had realised just what he was doing.

By then of course, it was much too late. Surely Tony had felt the semi that had been filling his pants. He might have been able to pass it off, since it happened to almost every man at least once (unexpected _reactions_ were one of man’s greatest burdens and just one of the many reasons Steve envied Natasha). But no, Steve couldn’t do that, couldn’t act like a decent human being. No, he had just…disappeared. He had muttered something he was reasonably sure was incomprehensible under his breath and just _left._

Meaning that Tony – painfully insecure Tony – was probably back to thinking Steve hated him again.

All attempts to convince himself that he is overreacting fall flat when he realises that Tony is hiding out in his workshop and JARVIS has been instructed not even to pass on messages. Tony had definitely noticed and didn’t want anything to do with him.

Steve _hates_ himself. Not just for ruining something that was so important to him, but for ruining it for Tony too. Tony’s never said as much, (for all his never-ending talk, Tony’s not exactly a forthcoming man), but Steve is pretty sure that he's right. He knows how important it was to Tony that they all become friends when they first moved in, and, despite Tony’s well-earned reputation for being unreliable, he has never not been there for Steve unless there’s been an actual emergency. So, yeah, he knows that he’s ruined yet another thing for Tony because he’s a jackass.

JARVIS' apologetic – he’s even made some headway with Tony’s overprotective robot butler, probably because, when not overshadowed by misunderstandings, he and Tony have a lot in common– refusal to pass on messages is probably the worst blow. Winning JARVIS over was one of the hardest things he’s ever done, and he did his basic training before he had the supersoldier serum and that was a pretty miserable experience. If Tony was angry with him, JARVIS would be back to icily and scrupulously polite responses to direct questions he simply cannot refuse to answer. His very _niceness_ means that Tony is pitying him. Tony is locked in his workshop, refusing to see anyone probably out of some misguided notion that this will make it less awkward for Steve until it all blows over.

Steve hates being pitied. His refusal to be pitied is why he spent his entire youth being beaten in alleys. If he’d been willing to wield the puny-helpless-asthmatic card, most of them would have left him alone, and Bucky was far from the only decent guy on the block. There are others who would have helped him out, but most of those did it in such a condescending way that Steve was as likely to pick a fight with them as thank them. Still, with this, he knows he deserves pity. It’s nothing but pathetic, the man out of time falling for Tony Stark: futurist. And it chafes on him, humiliates him, but he’ll take Tony’s pity over his hatred and distrust. If he works on his poker face and figures out how to lie to Tony’s face, perhaps he can convince Tony he’s over it, that it’s done and maybe he’ll still be able to hang out with him.

Yes, Steve’s aware that his thoughts _are_ pathetic in so very many ways.

He’s taken to skulking around the tower on the upper floors only; he doesn’t want Tony to feel trapped or attacked or pressured. But he also wants to be there when Tony’s discomfort dies down. Tony deserves an apology, and Steve’s desperate to know where they stand. He’s punched his hands bloody against every punching bag in the gym. Every punch makes the twisting sensation in his stomach worse. He broke every bag in there, but it took time. Tony’s still clearly trying to make an unbreakable bag for him. After all, more keep appearing on a regular basis. Tony is still trying to make his team happy even when he’s been driven to hide himself away.

The tower seems silent in Tony’s absence. It doesn’t help that Clint and Natasha are on a mission. Thor and Bruce are around somewhere, but they’ve struck up an odd kind of friendship, seemingly based on the fact that Thor could take down, or at least distract, the Hulk and the fact that Thor wasn’t there during all the beginning awkwardness and therefore cannot be blamed. Either way, Bruce has begun taking Thor on field trips, enjoying showing him the sights of Midgard.

Steve is happy for them. He enjoys watching them come in, Bruce more relaxed than he has ever seen him, the pair laughing and bearing armloads of the tackiest trinkets New York has to offer. He knows that they both would listen to him, sympathise, and that Bruce could possibly even coax Tony out of the workshop. But he doesn’t want to reveal his deepest feelings to more people; after all, everyone’s life would be altogether better if he had been more subtle and hadn’t let _Tony_ know. Besides, he can’t bring himself to ruin their fun. Tony on an inventing binge isn’t unusual enough to draw attention.

So…Steve waits. He doesn’t really have any other choice.    

JARVIS hasn’t turned on him though, which gives him some hope that he may not have ruined everything irrevocably because, Ms. Potts aside, he’s pretty sure JARVIS would be the first to destroy him if he had. He even lets Steve know when Tony cracks the workshop door open and allows Steve to be the first one there.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve says tentatively, proffering a cup of coffee as a blatant bribe.   

“Thanks.” Tony’s smile is perhaps a little stiff, and doesn’t quite meet Steve’s eyes, but there is no awkward apology for why they can’t be friends any more, no glib remark and quick escape. Tony takes a deep sip, a deeper breath and seemingly orientates himself. “You want to go grab something to eat?”

Steve smiles, and forces himself to keep everything but friendship out of his eyes. “Love to.” The world is back to rights. He and Tony are okay, even if he’ll never have what he wants, he’s not completely alone.


	3. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Tony has feelings for Steve, but with a past that can be most charitably described as rocky, how can he possibly hope for Steve to return them? Part 5 of the First Impressions and Second Chances series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately, though considering what I put them through, probably for the best.  
> Warning/Spoilers: ANGST, unacknowledged romantic feelings and references to past bullying  
> Beta: kerravon. All remaining mistakes are mine.  
> Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, slash, get-together  
> A/N: Sorry that this is slightly late guys. Who knew that moving country/house/bob would be so time consuming? Hopefully the next one will be up like usual on Monday, but I don't want to make promises I can't keep.

**Unstoppable Force and Immovable Object**

 

When the mission's complete, Natasha makes her way back to the tower without even stopping long enough at SHIELD HQ to shower. Clint trails behind her, silent and exhausted. It was a long op and Natasha is more grateful than she can express that Phil offered to stay behind and square away the preliminary paperwork so that they can get some much needed sleep. It’s a nice, if strange, sensation to feel like she’s going home. She’s never had that before, never felt this peaceful glow before. 'Before', the places she’d lived had simply been somewhere to lay her head and store her few possessions, somewhere where she had to guard her back and never fully relax. Instead, she now trusts the people around her to give her the support and space that she needs and doesn’t even have to think about security because she knows Stark and JARVIS have it covered. She’s planning to sleep for twenty-four straight hours, dead to the world.

Something in the tower has changed, though; she feels it virtually the moment she steps through the door. Well, all right, not exactly 'the moment', she’s good but she’s not psychic. But the difference is certainly obvious as soon as she and Clint sit down to the meal Bruce has prepared to celebrate their return.

The food is good enough to keep Natasha and Clint awake for another couple of hours, and no one’s ever celebrated her coming back in one piece from an op before, unless she counts the occasional Italian meal with Phil or the life-affirming sex she and Clint sometimes have in the immediate aftermath.

They all crowd around the family-sized table in the dining room, Steve at its head and Tony close enough to brush his elbow every time he moves, just like always. Thor is excitedly telling her about the African Burial Ground National Monument that he and Bruce went to see yesterday. She’s so exhausted that she can’t really concentrate, but his excitement is contagious and, focussed on Thor, she almost _doesn’t_ notice.

“You want some of this, Tony?”

Steve’s voice is almost normal, but there’s something not quite right, some new hesitance that draws her attention and forces her sluggish brain to focus. She meets Clint’s eyes across the table as she turns and knows he’s noticed too.

“What is it?” Tony sounds wary, but he’s a dreadfully picky eater and, though the object Steve is holding is undoubtedly delicious if Bruce cooked it, it is also unidentifiable.

“It’s…I don’t know, but it’s good,” Steve coaxes, that uncertain note still in his tone.

Tony shrugs, but then, instead of just grabbing Steve’s fork like usual, he serves himself one of the things from the bowl in the centre.

Exhaustion combined with comfort makes Natasha more expressive than usual, but the kitchen is full and busy and none of the others seem to notice. Once again, she meets Clint’s eyes and he nods slightly, silently promising to grab Tony for a talk when they’ve both slept. Clint and Tony are closer nowadays, the latest incident with Loki having had at least _one_ benefit.

She watches them for a few minutes longer, but whatever this new caution and uncertainty is, it doesn’t seem to stem from an argument. They aren’t bickering or being needlessly cruel, unerringly striking each other’s weak spots. They are still sitting as painfully close as always, the unrequited sexual tension that’s been pouring out of the pair of them for weeks is still clogging the kitchen with noxious fumes. It irritates her that she can’t put her finger on the problem, but she’s too tired and hungry to dwell on it.

It takes a few minutes – okay, more like half an hour – to mentally dismiss it, to remind herself that she doesn’t have to know how everyone in the room will react to every situation. To remind herself that, for tonight at least, she can allow this to play out. But eventually she puts Tony and Steve and their various issues out of her mind and relaxes with her friends. She’ll deal with it tomorrow.

*

It’s a couple of days before she’s slept off the residual exhaustion. She spends those days on her floor, wrapped around Clint, ensuring that he’s intact and holding it together after masquerading as one of their mark’s henchmen and beating her for information. It’s a ruse they’ve pulled hundreds of times, but this is Clint’s first time in the field since Loki. She even permits him to examine her with meticulous care even though, since she wasn’t detained by medical, he should _know_ that she’s fine. She even finds time for a couple of bubble baths and to finish the _Nightworld_ book she was reading before she left.

But she’s not hiding; she actually likes everyone else in this building since it’s not a SHIELD barracks. She likes everyone, and better, they like her. They don’t judge her as being an emotionless automation, which…okay, is an image she works hard to project, but it’s difficult to connect with people who can't see past that.

The room isn’t empty when Natasha approaches it, feet soundless and gliding on the hardwood floor, teacup clutched in her hands, fingers warming on the fine china. Tony and Steve are on one of the smaller sofas, leaning into one another, bodies so close that she doubts you could get a sheet of paper between them. Steve is flushed from laughing, eyes bright and wet, and Tony doesn’t look much better, dishevelled and sweaty from having been – possibly literally – dragged out of his workshop. “How do you feel?” he’s saying to Steve, voice low and throaty.

Steve laughs again, one hand flitting to his face. “My lips are still tingling,” he admits.

Natasha’s eyes drop to the low table in front of the pair, spotting the plate of chicken wings, liberally coated with spices, in front of them, and extrapolates the context, but her lips still tug into an unimpressed scowl. Tony half reaches out, as though he’s going to brush the sweat dampened blond hair out of Steve’s eyes, but he pulls back before his hand can do much more than flex and he ends up rubbing the back of his own neck. Natasha’s eyes narrow.

There’s so much sexual tension in this room that _she_ wants to start rubbing herself against one of them. And, while that’s not _entirely_ unusual, before she left it seemed like things were progressing to their natural conclusion. Now it seems like they’ve taken a huge step back.

Natasha loves reading love triangles and two characters who, for various reasons, assume they aren’t good enough for their – obviously – perfect match, but she has no intention of living it. Something has to be done about this.

She goes to SHIELD headquarters where Clint is practicing on the range. Clint is an idiot more than half the time, and she trusts everyone in the tower implicitly, but when the chips are down and she needs a partner in crime, Clint will always be her first choice. Without preamble she demands, “What’s up with Stark and Rogers?”

Clint grimaces and shrugs.

Natasha perches herself on the low table that has Clint’s spare arrows resting on it and watches as Clint fires a couple more shots into the wildly spinning targets, hitting each one dead centre.

“I know you spoke to Stark.”

Clint sighs and reaches over, slapping the button on the wall that pauses the programme. He turns to her, pulling off the eye patch he has over his left eye and twirling the elastic absently between his fingers. “I hate doing girl talk.”

“I don’t care. Tell me everything or I’ll beat you up.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not okay to say that if you mean it.”

Natasha slaps him affectionately and Clint grabs her wrist. She spins into him, toppling him with a kick to the knee and dodging the strike he throws at her face. She straddles his hips and shimmies enticingly. Clint goes still beneath her except for a quickly suppressed twitch of his hips. He laughs breathlessly.

“Tell me everything,” Natasha insists again.

Clint huffs affectedly.

“Every. Thing.” Natasha insists again.

She watches Clint’s face and sees the moment that it occurs to him that like this, she has the advantage, and caves instead of annoying her further. Natasha vows to check for something sticky in her running shoes or some equally juvenile prank. Clint always retaliates in the stupidest ways. “You know how Steve and Tony think they’re being subtle and that no one knows that they want to make wild monkey love to one another on every flat surface in the tower?”

This time it’s Natasha who rolls her eyes.

Clint ignores her and carries on. “Well, reading between the lines of Tony’s more-than-slightly-insane rant, I’m guessing he thinks Steve has found out about his supposedly secret feelings.”

“That’s obviously not true. If Steve had any idea that Tony felt the same way he’d be all over him.”

“Yes. We know that.”

“Everybody knows that.”

“Apparently not Tony.”

“We should fix this.”

Beneath her Clint freezes, joking amusement bleeding out of his eyes. “Uh…I don’t think that’s a great idea, Tasha. I don’t think screwing with Stark’s personal life is a good idea at all. Not given our history.”

Natasha opens her mouth to give a snide retort, then closes it again. From Clint, that’s a surprisingly mature stance to take. “I thought you and Tony were close now. Since…” she trails off. None of them know exactly what Clint went through in Loki’s dream world. Steve and Tony have been known to make passing references to it; they at least shared whatever happened there, but Clint has never said a word. Natasha’s never heard him say anything except that he doesn’t remember what happened. She knows he stopped seeing the SHIELD mandated therapist a couple of weeks ago, but she has no idea what they talked about to keep him in sessions for more than a month.

Clint shrugs as well as he can flat on his back. “Well, you know. Tony’s swell; he’s a lot of fun.”

“Phil said that he was the only person he’d ever met with a smarter mouth than you after their first meeting.”

Clint looks offended. “I’m way more sarcastic than Stark!”

“Yeah, but he talks more. Statistics say he gets more hits just by launching more volleys.”

“Huh.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“…Maybe. But I still think Pepper Potts is more than capable of eviscerating us with a teaspoon if we mess with him.”

“We’d be helping.”

“And maybe we’d have gotten away with that excuse if not for…you know. Everything. And besides, Pepper will only say we’re helping ourselves.”

Natasha flops to the side, lying down beside Clint with a sigh. “I’m going to kill one of them. It’s ridiculous. And distracting. And it’s quite frankly only a matter of time before one of them gets brained by a bad guy because they’re watching the other’s ass.”

“I have no intention of being the one who sets up Pepper Potts’ ex-boyfriend with a guy.”

“It’s not Tony’s first guy. It’s not even Tony’s first guy since Pepper.”

Clint rolls over to eye her with frank amazement. “What? When? Really?”

“I honestly don’t know why SHIELD hired you.”

“I have excellent aim,” Clint drawls, thrusting his hips against her until she slaps him again. It’s not as gentle this time.

“Get off me. I am not having sex with you anywhere where our various bosses could get hold of the footage.”

“We don’t have to have sex, Tash,” he says, smiling easily. “Just stay still a few more minutes.”

“Classy.”

He rocks against her again.

“I will rip it off and wear it as a necklace. And your attempt to distract me isn’t working.”

Clint goes still, raising his hands in surrender. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You really want to just let them keep staring at each other, composing poetry in their minds? It’s sickening.”

“I know.”

Natasha sighs again. “You ever wish we could go back and do it again?”

She has no idea what she’s supposed to do as part of a team. As a graduate of the Red Room she had been a solo operative, though SHIELD requires more group skills. She works closely with Clint and Coulson, but even with them she lacks the integration that Phil frequently tells her most kids pick up in elementary school. But the Avengers (the weird group of total misfits she somehow managed to be saddled with) she adores with a fierce, fiery passion. She has no experience with this, but she knows that setting up Tony and Steve should be hilarious. She and Clint should be able to run about setting traps which force them together, or making less-than-subtle statements that make Steve blush so it’s obvious they were both thinking along the same lines. They should be roping Bruce and Pepper into helping them. This should be _funny_. This should be sweetness on the level of the diabetes-inducing rom-coms she never intends to tell anyone that she enjoys watching.  

But it’s not. It’s actually kind of agonising to know that she could help but isn’t allowed, her own stupid mistakes still coming back to bite her.

Clint breaks her melancholy mood with a wide grin. “I’ve never seen you all girly and gossipy and matchmaker-y. Is that a word?”

“No.” Natasha scowls at him.

Clint’s grin widens. “You’re embarrassed.”

She shoves him. From their positions on the floor, she doesn’t really have the leverage to push him hard, but the breath huffs out of him as she places her hand flat against his sternum anyway. “I am not embarrassed, and I am not matchmaking.”

“You totally are.”

She doesn’t get the chance to answer. The door opens and both of them sit up enough to see Phil as he enters. No one but they would be able to read the hesitancy on his face. Natasha raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, thank God. Security turned off the cameras down here when you both got on the floor.”

“See, you totally could have let me keep-”

“Clint,” Natasha silences him. She gracefully rises to her feet and offers Clint a hand without thinking. “But you thought you’d come down here anyway?”

“It’s against regulations to turn off security on the firing range unless there is a senior agent present. And you both know better. Well…Agent Romanov knows better.”

Clint sticks his tongue out.

Without even looking at him, Natasha pats his arm sympathetically. “Hey Phil, what do you think about Steve and Tony?”

Phil raises an intrigued eyebrow, “Did they finally get together?”

Natasha sighs. “No. And if anything they’ve…Something’s up with them.”

“Stark’s insecurities versus Rogers’ guilt.” Phil flexes his shoulders in his version of a shrug. “Either one of them could have decided that they didn’t deserve the other and backed off. And of course that would make the other one think the first one _knew_ and didn’t want them but was being nice.”

“Which would make them both love each other more. I swear Phil, if someone doesn’t pull their heads out of their asses-”

“No.”

Natasha blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You were about to start an overly-violent rant in order to prompt me into fixing the problem before it overflowed.”

Natasha stares back at him, but admits to nothing.

“Do you want to know why this time your patented manipulation didn’t work?”

Natasha’s teeth sink into the inside of her cheek unseen. Clint’s shit-eating grin isn’t helping. “Yes,” she grudgingly admits. Phil’s not the infiltrator or manipulator she is, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t always respected him as a teacher.

“Because usually you use this plan against the juniors, or whoever you’ve been assigned to work with who doesn’t…understand your unique way of carrying out missions.”

“So?”

“So, you won’t actually hurt the Avengers. You like them.”

Damn it, when had she become so transparent? “So you’re not going to help?”

“I am not actually running a babysitting service. It won’t hurt Captain Rogers or Stark to show that they’ve learned something – anything – and begin to communicate with each other.”

Natasha gave them the ‘I meant to do that’ look of a squirrel who has missed the branch it has just jumped for. “I have things to do today. If you gentlemen will excuse me?"

Just because no one will help her doesn’t mean Natasha is willing to let the matter rest. She cannot deny however, that Clint has a point. Their previous actions make their interference unsuitable, and also means that it’s unlikely that the people who have historically been loyal to Tony can be convinced to help. So she goes looking for Thor.

*

“I would be pleased to help our shield brother, as it is clear that he and the Captain harbour feelings for one another.”

“We have to be subtle though, Thor. Okay?”

The demi-god huffs out an enormous sigh. “I do not understand the modesty you mortals have about the subject of love. It is the most natural impulse of all. Is it not better that they feel kindly towards each other?”

Natasha shakes her head in bewilderment. She agrees. “We still have to be subtle.”

“Very well. You know your own world better than I. How do you intend to go about your plan?”

“We need one of them to realise that the other feels the same.” As soon as she says it she knows that it’s not that simple. Tony would have to have the knowledge physically beaten into his head before he would have the confidence to ask out Captain America. It took them months to convince Tony that they didn’t hate him; that it was just a misunderstanding that was all their fault anyway. Even then, she’s fairly sure they owe Loki a debt of gratitude or they’d still be fighting against that. And Steve…well…Steve is more confident, but he still holds himself accountable for the misunderstandings. He’s the sort to believe that not having the man he wants is a just punishment.

“Do you truly believe that will work?”

She doesn’t.

Thor smiles at her, not the least bit patronising for all that he is looking at her as though she is a precocious child solving a difficult puzzle. “Perhaps we should just speak with them.”

It’s a ridiculous suggestion. It’s not the least bit subtle, and if talking to either Steve or Tony worked neither of them would feel so guilty or insecure.

But then…maybe…

This team is about more than saving the world from various supervillains. It’s about having a group of people that will shelter you when you can’t defend yourself. It’s about having people you can lean on when you don’t have the strength left to stand, and knowing someone is _always_ coming for you. It’s about getting to be the rock for everyone else when they need you. _She_ knows that and she’s never been part of anything like this, but maybe Steve and Tony _don’t_. Maybe their own issues mean they don’t see it. Maybe they still think they owe the other something it would never occur to either of them to demand.

“Perhaps,” she agrees.


	4. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Tony has feelings for Steve, but with a past that can be most charitably described as rocky, how can he possibly hope for Steve to return them? Part 5 of the First Impressions and Second Chances series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately, though considering what I put them through, probably for the best.  
> Warning/Spoilers: ANGST, unacknowledged romantic feelings and references to past bullying  
> Beta: kerravon. All remaining mistakes are mine.  
> Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, slash, get-together

**Unstoppable Force and Immovable Object**

 

So, hiding in his workshop didn’t solve his problem. Tony still has _feelings_ and that means he’s eventually either going to give himself away or act like even more of an ass than usual and drive _Steve_ away. That means that no matter how awkward it is, and no matter how ridiculous he feels, Tony has only one other option. Damn JARVIS for being right anyway.

Rhodey meets him at their favourite diner and tolerates him toying with his plateful of fries while eating all of Rhodey’s onion rings. He keeps up a meaningless patter on his work and the secrets that Rhodey may or may not know but either way refuses to tell. Rhodey even buys him another milkshake with only a roll of his eyes when Tony decides halfway through his chocolate one that he actually wanted butterscotch.

“Come on, Tony. You have to tell me what the problem is eventually.”

Tony considers denying that there’s a problem, but that won’t work because there are only a limited number of reasons for which he drags his long-suffering best friend out for burgers and fries after midnight. He settles for the next best option. “No, I don’t!”

“Real mature. We can sit here all night and do this, and you know I’ll still come next time you call, but there’s no point in admitting that you need my help in the first place if you don’t actually let me help.”

Tony gives a theatrical groan and drops his head into his hands. This is going to be _awful_. “It’s Steve.”

Rhodey’s hand thumps flat on the table, rattling both plates and making Tony jump. He straightens to gaze at Rhodey with eyes he can tell are wide and uncertain. Stupid sleep deprivation makes him easy to read.

“I’m going to kill him. I swear to God, I’m going to kill him. Supersoldier or not, a bullet in the head will put him in the ground the same as everyone else." Rhodey is practically growling. "What happened _this_ time? Pepper said she’d sorted him out.”

“Oooookay.” What is it with people wanting to kill Steve? “So, it’s nice that I have an over-protective body guard to match my over-protective AI, but no. That’s not the problem. This one is all me.”

Rhodey’s expression darkens further. It’s all Tony can do to keep from flinching back in his own seat. “On second thought, a bullet’s too good him. I’m going to make this slow.”

Tony holds his hands up. “No, seriously, Rhodey, _sit down_. It’s not like that. It’s…let me tell you the problem, all right?”

Rhodey nods slowly. “Yeah, you tell me what that bastard has been doing to you and then I can decide just how slowly I’m going to mutilate him.”

“You know, Cupcake, you frighten me a little, and I’m roomies with two assassins and a Hulk. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”

“Tony. Talk.” Rhodey growls out. He seems to have bypassed furious and gone straight to _murderous_.

Yeah, this confession is so not going to go well. “I like him and I need to stop.”

“Yes, yes you do. It’s Stockholm Syndrome, and what do you mean you _like_ him?”

“I…y’know. I’m not going to wax poetic about him and you can’t make me.” Tony folds his arms on the table.

“That’s not…I can’t even…That _bastard_ doesn’t deserve you, Tony. You deserve someone who cares about, someone who…loves you.”

Tony twists his face into something he hopes approximates a smile. “Everyone who loves me knows how much I suck, Babycakes. I mean, _Steve_ knows how much I suck too, but at least I wouldn’t disappoint him since he never thought I could be better. Which is actually irrelevant anyway, because the point of this conversation is for you to make me _stop_ liking him. I don’t want to ruin what Steve and I finally have.”

Rhodey shakes his head. “You know, Tony, I think it’s great that you’re such a generous person, but there’s no need to be a pushover. Why on _earth_ would you fall for _Rogers_?”

“I like a challenge.”

“Tony.”

Tony shrugs. “Habit.”

Rhodey sighs. “I know you’ve always liked the idea of Captain America.”

He does, mostly because, during the awkward crush phase which Tony is totally over, thanks, he insisted on calling Rhodey, “Captain.”

“But,” Rhodey continues, “I think _Steve_ ,” he spits the word like it tastes bad, “has proved he’s not all he was cracked up to be.”

“He’s not,” Tony mutters to the table top. “He’s so much more. He’s perfect and wonderful and beautiful and I’m gushing, aren’t I?”

“I think I threw up in my mouth a little.”

“What a great image, I can see why you have women just falling off you.”

“You can’t go running after a dream that doesn’t exist, Tony.”

“…I love him,” Tony admits in a low voice after a long pause. “I need to stop because he’s never going to feel the same.”

“Tony…” Rhodey groans. “He doesn’t deserve you and he never will.” Tony starts to say something and Rhodey cuts him off. “But… _but_ if you love him he would be lucky to have you.”

Tony can’t resist smiling, though he tries hard to maintain his woeful expression. “I don’t want to lose him as a friend because he doesn’t feel the same and has 1940s homophobic hangups.”

“Tony, he wears skin tight leather and was a showgirl. He doesn’t have homophobic hangups.”

Tony lets his head fall off his hands until his forehead actually thumps on the table. “I know. That’s just a really convenient excuse. He’s my dad’s ex.”

It’s probably a good thing Rhodey wasn’t drinking anything. Tony would have been sprayed with it. “ _What_?!”

“He told us during one of our…team meeting bonding thingies when he first moved in.” He doesn’t even need to see the expression on Rhodey’s face to grimace and continue, “I know. There’s something wrong with me.” The silence tells Tony that Rhodey agrees and is too tactful to say anything. “So you’ll help me, right?” He risks raising his head enough to peek at Rhodey.

Rhodey ruffles his hair, like he’s always done when Tony’s being particularly young and pathetic. “Of course I’ll help. But, Tony…I don’t think there really is a cure for this. If there was a cure for being in love with the most inconvenient person imaginable, then half the movies in the world wouldn’t exist.”

Tony groans again and lets his forehead smack back to the table. “Fuck my life.”

“You’ve decided not to tell him, then?”

“I don’t think I have any other choice,” Tony snaps waspishly.

Rhodey shrugs. “Good. I don’t want him anywhere near you. Honestly, if I didn’t live on an airforce base, I’d have moved in with you to keep an eye on him.”

“You’re such a good friend, Muffin.”

“Hey,” Rhodey raises his hands, “if you wanted to tell him and were looking for advice, I’d help you out. I mean, I’d try and change your mind first but…I’d help. You don’t want him. That can only be good. Rogers _isn’t good enough for you._ ”

Tony takes a deep breath and allows the vulnerability he usually fights not to show into his eyes. “You really think so?”

Rhodey nods, conviction in every line of his body. “I really do.”

“I should tell him.”

“You should…what?”

“I should tell him. I really want him, Rhodey, and not just in the way that sounds. I really do…I really…and if you think he’s not good enough for me then…then maybe it can’t hurt to at least ask him out, right?”

“Explain the logic behind that one for me.”

Tony scowls at the table. He’s fully aware of just how pathetic he will sound if he says, _“Pretty much the only reason I haven’t asked him out already is because I thought he would laugh in my face because I’m nowhere near his league, but if you don’t think that’s true maybe I should sack up.”_

Rhodey’s heavy sighs tells Tony he knows exactly what he’s thinking, but he’s a good best friend so he bails Tony out and doesn’t make him actually say it. “You’re right. And if he turns you down in anything but the sweetest, nicest way possible and bends over backwards not to make it awkward for you, I am going to puree him. Understand?”

“You think he’ll turn me down?”

“How often do you get turned down?”

“You had no qualms.”

“I like girls, Tony. And you were very drunk. And _sixteen_.”

“I don’t see how any of those are relevant. Well, the first one. Maybe.”

“If he likes guys, he likes you. That’s a given. And you’re not totally irredeemable; you’re…you’re practically my brother, that automatically makes you amazing.”

“Do you think it’s sort of ironic that _you_ talked me into speaking to him?”

“I think you’re insane. Just…just promise me you’re not being led around by your dick, Tony. I know how you get…clingy with people. Just tell me there are real emotions behind this, anything to make it worth letting Rogers in and giving him a chance to nearly destroy you again. You didn’t _see_ yourself, last time. You-”

More than a little terrified by Rhodey’s tone, Tony reaches out and touches him on the arm. “Woah, Creampuff. Don’t get hysterical.”

Rhodey scowls at him. “I’m not hysterical. I just…I worry about you.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to make another snide remark. “I know,” he says instead. “There are. And he won’t…he’s a good guy. And we’re…we’re better now. You remember last month when I got trapped in Loki’s crazy ass nightmare land?”

Rhodey cracks his knuckles. “Yeah. And when I get my hands on _him_ -”

“So anyway,” Tony interrupts, cutting off any more murderous threats. “Steve looked out for me. We were,” Tony tilts his eyes away. Rhodey needs to know this, but he can’t look him in the eyes while he bares himself completely. “We were trapped in a world that I saw as a desert…which, well, you can imagine. I was not in a good place. And…for Steve, it was snow. Which was, you know, not good for him, either. And he still looked out for me. He was…Loki killed me. And there was nothing either of us could do about it and,” he breaks off, swallows convulsively against the hot acid jumping in his stomach, “and the last thing I heard was Steve _screaming_ for me. I…I’ve never heard a sound like that, Rhodey. It made me…he must care about me at least a little. Right?”

He actually hears Rhodey’s teeth grate together. “Yes,” he admits. It sounds grudging. “Pepper says you two spend a lot of time together?”

“Yeah, he’s…he’s kind of…my best friend.” He flushes abruptly. “No offence, you are too, of course. It’s just…Steve’s around a lot and…”

“I don’t mind _that_. You really love him?”

“I really do.” There’s a moment of silence then Tony pushes his plate of uneaten fries over to him. “You’re a good friend.”

Rhodey snags a fry and shakes his head. “I really am.”

*

Tony knows that if he waits too long he’ll lose the courage that Rhodey has given him, so when he gets back to the tower, instead of going to bed, he hangs around the communal kitchen drinking mug after mug of the tar Clint has left in the coffee pot. Steve always gets up early. All Tony has to do is wait.

It’s nearly seven when Steve enters the kitchen. He’s obviously been for his morning run. He’s still sweaty and flushed. He falters when he sees Tony sitting there. For his part, Tony is trying not to shake from caffeine overdosing. Steve runs his hand through his damp hair. “Uh…sorry, Tony. I don’t usually see you this early. I’ll go and clean up first.”

“No, no.” Tony starts to stand up, then changes his mind and sits down. “Don’t. It’s fine. You look nice.” He fights down the blush, but it’s not a lie. In a sweat-sodden, too-tight white T-shirt, Steve looks like the stuff his dreams are made of. Literally. “Sit down.”

“Sure,” Steve’s smile is easy as he settles down opposite but the strange wariness that’s been in his eyes ever since Tony’s slip up is still there.

Tony takes a deep breath, then another, and downs the cold dregs of the coffee in front of him. He takes a third breath, reminds himself sternly that he’s an Avenger and seizes his courage with both hands. “I want to show you something.”

“Is something wrong?” Steve sounds concerned. It makes Tony’s heart clench.

“No. Everything’s fine. I think. Hopefully. Anyway. Can we go? Do you want to see?”

“Okay,” Steve nods. It’s obvious from the guileless blue of his eyes that he’d follow Tony anywhere. It gives him the confidence to carry on.

“It’s in my workshop.”

He stands. Steve immediately imitates him and follows and doesn’t say anything about how Tony just made him sit down at the table. His curiosity is palpable, and he’s responding to the tension in Tony’s body, too often a prelude to battle, by tensing himself, but he doesn’t ask questions. He just keeps heading down the stairs on Tony’s heels.

“Remember when I had that accident?” Tony breaks the silence as he opens the door to the workshop. “When Clint shot that EMP arrow at me?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers, a noticeable hitch in his voice.

“Don’t…don’t do that. I’m not upset about it. Just…do you remember…I had to give you the codes for the safe for my spare Arc reactors?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, hoarsely. “And thank you for that, Tony. I’d have hated to lose you.”

Steve gives him a gentle smile that Tony can’t help but reciprocate fleetingly, until another surge of panic fills his chest with ice again and quickly looks away. “Well…look, this is the safe.”

He clears a shelf at the back and, behind it, set into the wall is a slim panel, a barely noticeable safe. A bright light shoots out of the unit, directed right at Tony’s eyes, and Steve almost shoves him out the way before he realises that it’s the biometric reader. The light flickers over Tony, then blinks out and a standard alphanumeric pad springs out of the safe. Tony just looks at it for a moment. Then he turns around to face Steve. “Usually…after circumstances forced me to tell someone my codes, I would change them. I would have JARVIS do it while I was still in the hospital. Usually, I’d let people know my codes for twelve hours. Maximum. Even Pepper can’t open this safe.” He sucks in another breath. “I didn’t change the codes this time,” he barely whispers.

There’s a moment of silence. “Why?” Steve breathes.

Tony looks at him, then smiles, bright and luminous. “I _forgot_. I find it sohard to trust people, Steve. I just…don’t do it. But you guys…I didn’t even remember that you all knew. JARVIS had to remind me a week after I got home. And then…then I left it.” He reaches out to the panel, fingers barely brushing its surface. “The code is still 070418.”

Something crosses Steve’s face, but it’s not the recognition Tony was expecting. He waits another moment then laughs, slightly manically. This is awkward as fuck.

“Oh my God, you don’t get it, do you? Natasha really didn’t tell you. I’m going to actually have to explain it.”

“I…Tony- What?”

“It’s your birthday.”

Steve blinks his surprise and his mouth gapes for a second. “On purpose?”

“No, by sheer chance, I picked the birthday of my dad’s hero.”

Steve rocks on his feet, looking torn between going forward or back, but he doesn’t otherwise move. His wary look has intensified. “What does that mean?” he hazards eventually.

Tony grabs hold of every scrap of courage he has. It’s now, or never. “It means…I love you,” he says all in a rush.

There’s a moment during which he starts to panic and then Steve surges forward, crushing him in a hug. Tony thinks his brain might be short-circuiting from being pressed against sweaty supersoldier abs. “I love you too,” he whispers against Tony’s hair.

Tony takes a moment to just breathe him in, then he pulls back. “Is this weird because you and my dad…you know?”

“What? We didn’t…we never…why would you even say that?” Steve seems honestly confused.

Tony licks his lips and backs up a step. It’s weird, and he’s resigned to that, but Steve lying to him about it? That’s too reminiscent of being a replacement, a spare… like Steve could slip and forget and call him Howard at any moment. “You told me so? During that game of truth or dare or whatever?”

Steve’s face suffuses with blood and he straightens, like he’s on a parade ground, looking over Tony’s shoulder to stare at the wall. “I didn’t. I didn’t do anything with Howard. I only said that…I was just being mean. I’m sorry.”

Tony thinks he should probably be annoyed, or hurt, but he just laughs in relief. “You…seriously? That’s…that’s perfect. That means I don’t have to feel bad about everything I want to do to you.”

He moves back into Steve’s sphere, tangling his hands in the supersoldier’s hair. They’re almost kissing, lips mere fractions apart, and this time it’s Steve who pulls back. Tony makes a shocked, choked noise. “Wait.” Steve’s voice is rougher than usual.

Tony looks up at him. “Too much? Too soon? I really do love you, Steve. We can go at your pace, that’s cool. I don’t just…This isn’t a sex thing, I swear.” He has a brief flashback to the disgusted, horrified look on Steve’s face the first time he thought Tony was hitting on him.

“No, _no_ , nothing like that. I’ve just been wondering for a while and before we do… whatever this is, I think we should clear the air.”

“Right,” Tony agrees hesitantly and waits for whatever bomb Steve is about to drop.

“Remember…before…when we were-”

“Yeah,” he doesn’t want to hear Steve try to fumblingly describe this again.

“Well, I know we were jerks. And I know you had every right but…why did you turn my shower ice cold?” Steve’s voice trails off at the end, becoming quiet and lost and sad.

“I-” Tony starts.

“If I may, sir?” JARVIS interrupts.

“JARVIS…”

“I will say nothing without your permission, but I think that Captain Rogers is right. If you are going to further your relationship, you should do so with minimal baggage from your unfortunate first meeting.”

Tony fights with himself for a moment, but he’s willing to trust Steve with his heart and with the code to the battery that keeps him alive. This is such a small thing in comparison. “All right, J. Hit it.”

“Captain Rogers, _I_ made your shower turn cold. I am not just an extension of Sir but an autonomous being in my own right.”

Steve blinks and spends a moment processing. “I knew that. Tony told me when we were…” He stops talking, and Tony watches his face go blank while his mind races through various possibilities. He turns away from Tony completely, tilting his head up as almost everyone except he and Pepper does when addressing JARVIS. “So it was all you, JARVIS? The fire alarm? The light-weight punching bags? It was all you?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” the AI answers, steadily – as if JARVIS could be anything but steady – and Tony flinches, remembering the instant condemnation of JARVIS being able to make choices that Steve had demonstrated before.

Steve takes a second to shoot him a reassuring glance before dipping his chin to his chest, hiding his eyes. Tony bites his lip and waits as patiently as he can for Steve to finish thinking.

“Thank you,” Steve says softly after a pause.

Tony is already rushing to explain. “It’ll be fine, Steve. I swear J wouldn’t…wait. _What_?”

Steve gives him a fond smile and repeats, in a louder tone, “Thank you, JARVIS. For protecting Tony.”

“Hey!” Tony objects. “I don’t need protecting.”

He is soundly ignored by both JARVIS and Steve. “It is my privilege, Captain Rogers. And I feel I should warn you-”

“No warning necessary, JARVIS. If I mistreat Tony in any way at any point in the future I would _ask_ that you stop me, however you can. Take this as blanket permission.”

“Very well, Captain.”

“Are either of you going to ask what I think?” Tony demands.

Steve reaches out, pulling Tony back into his arms. Not that he has to use much force, as Tony goes willingly. “No. You can’t be trusted to look after yourself.”

“I…can,” Tony insists unconvincingly.

“Uh huh,” Steve teases, “When was the last time you ate?”

“I think this is an unfair question. I didn’t know there was going to be a test.”

Steve laughs at him, but before Tony can object his lips are on Tony’s and it’s everything Tony had always dreamed it would be.

Except better.


	5. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Tony has feelings for Steve, but with a past that can be most charitably described as rocky, how can he possibly hope for Steve to return them? Part 5 of the First Impressions and Second Chances series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Disclaimer: Not mine unfortunately, though considering what I put them through, probably for the best.  
> Warning/Spoilers: ANGST, unacknowledged romantic feelings and references to past bullying  
> Beta: kerravon. All remaining mistakes are mine.  
> Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, slash, get-together
> 
> A/N: Sorry this has been so long guys, it turns out changing country is difficult and stressful, who knew? Anyway, back in the game now. Hope you all enjoy.

**Unstoppable Force and Immovable Object**

 

Steve’s sneaking down from Tony’s floor. He would have liked to never leave Tony’s decadently large bed ever again and had only been forced out of it because he really needs a trip to the kitchen. He still hasn’t managed breakfast and all Tony has on his floor are two stale bagels and a mango, a fact that will change if Steve has half a chance. He’s also planning a quick stop by his own quarters to clean up and change, since he’s still in the sweat-stained clothes from his run that are now even more wrecked from Tony’s and his…ah…activities. He hadn’t planned on things going so far, but he honestly couldn’t resist Tony and had checked repeatedly that it was definitely what the billionaire wanted.

He feels a bit dizzy from all the changes that the morning has wrought. It’s lucky he doesn’t meet anybody because not only does he look thoroughly debauched – a fact that had amused and aroused Tony in equal measure if his comments were any indication – but he has no hope of wiping the wide and ridiculous smile off his face.

It’s been years since he was this happy. This is like the serum all over again; a new lease on life, a second chance that he doesn’t deserve but is immeasurably grateful for. He has Tony, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted. His joy crystalises into something fierce as he thinks about how he’s going to spend every day striving to be worthy of someone brave enough, and forgiving enough, to offer his heart when he’d had every reason to believe that Steve would stomp on it.

He spends the next hour contentedly amusing himself with planning things to do to make Tony feel cherished. The images of picnics and quiet days drawing in Tony’s workshop while the genius tinkers happily with his robots fill his mind with a soft, pink glow.

When he finally makes it to the kitchen, he’s hungrier than he’s been in weeks, and more contented than he’s been in…well…since…since Peggy. The manic smile has faded though, replaced by a softer, more peaceful expression. He is pleased to see Thor sitting at the small kitchen table.

“Thor,” he greets with genuine pleasure.

Thor looks up from his plate, an eclectic mixture of cold chicken, fruit, rolls, cheese and left over pizza. “Steven,” the god says, a genuine smile creasing his boyish face.

“How are you?” Steve asks, brushing past him and heading to the fridge. “How was your trip with Bruce?” Then he sighs. Thor has apparently emptied the fridge of leftovers which means he’ll have to cook and he’s hungry, damn it. He pulls out the box of eggs and the pint of milk even though breakfast time has come and gone. It’s breakfast for him after all, and at least eggs are quick.

“It was very enjoyable,” Thor answers gravely, eyes wandering over the items in Steve’s hands.

Steve flushes as his stomach growls loudly.

Thor looks instantly ashamed and pushes his own laden plate slightly to the side, “You may share my feast, brother, if you are hungry.”

“Oh, it’s fine. You have it. You need to eat just as much as I do.” He sighs again, but his hand snags an apple from Thor’s plate anyway.

Thor gives him a smile, his eyes filled with timeless understanding that makes Steve blush again and turn hastily back to his eggs. “You are a good leader, Steven, but you do not need to protect me so. None of us would see you deny yourself what you need.”

“I’m hardly denying myself,” Steve disagrees ruefully, cracking ten eggs into the bowl without shame and beginning to whisk them with the milk.

Thor is silent for a moment. “You and our Man of Iron are alike in more ways than you see.”

Steve feels his blush darkening at the mere mention of Tony and he ducks his head over his whisking to hide it. He’s not ashamed of his relationship with Tony, of course not, it’s the best thing that’s happened to him since he awoke from being under the ice. But he hasn’t spoken to Tony about how public their relationship should be, and perhaps the genius doesn’t want to tell anyone. Steve will not betray him again. “What?” he says stupidly.

“You think nothing of postponing your own body’s needs, though you would not allow any of us to do the same, and you deflect the most innocent questions, even from your allies and friends.”

“I…” Steve falters. “Tony cares about you all a great deal.”

“I have never doubted it,” Thor says, and for the first time the sentiment doesn’t feel like a reprimand to Steve.

“You’re a good man, Thor,” he says, tipping the scrambled egg mixture into a pan to begin to heat. “You must get so bored here with us, when you’ve seen all this before, and yet you never fail to find the good in the situation.”

Thor laughs aloud. “I have never seen anything like this world, Steven. I find it just as amazing as you do. Do not mistake my age for experience, before being cast out of Asgard for arrogance, I had ever stuck close to home, and to those I knew. And you too are a better man than you give yourself credit. You are the only one who holds yourself ever responsible for the smallest of mistakes. Other mortals are permitted to make such errors, why not you?”

Steve stirs his mixture, eyes fixed on it. “Like you say, I’m the leader.”

“I am the crown Prince of Asgard, trained to be a leader since birth. Still, I was cast out for almost starting a war to defend my own pride. My tormenting my little brother has turned him into one of our most dangerous foes. Yet, I find that the most beautiful, wonderful, and kind-hearted woman I have ever met deems me worthy of her love.”

 _Me too,_ Steve almost says, but doesn’t. He must ask Tony about this; he’s a terrible liar and eventually he’s going to slip up in front of their friends. “Miss Foster is lucky to have you,” he says instead, with all sincerity.

The eggs finally cooked, he crosses to the coffee machine and pushes the button to produce instant, black sludge, just the way Tony likes it. In the gleaming chrome, he can see the god’s face, distorted slightly, but with an expression that looks…frustrated.

“Are you all right, Thor?” he asks, turning in concern.

Thor shrugs, shoulders flexing under the heavy crimson cloak he insists on wearing everywhere, and swallows down whatever emotion is marring his features. “I am fine, Steven. You are simply a stubborn man.”

Steve opens his mouth, about to demand what _that’s_ supposed to mean when Thor sighs, laughs and then speaks again. “Come, sit awhile with me. It is rare that we two warriors simply have a chance to share tales of our heroism.”

Steve can’t help the hand that jumps up to rub self-consciously at the back of his neck. “I don’t know that I have any tales of heroism, Thor. I only did what anyone would have done.”

Bafflement creases Thor’s face. “I do not understand this human modesty. You have done many heroic things, things no other could do, things no other _would_ do. And yet, you feel shame in admitting it.”

“I don’t think of myself like that, Thor,” Steve says, apologetically, knowing his cheeks are still pink. The god opens his mouth to object so Steve quickly picks up his plate and Tony’s mug as a diversion. “I need to take this coffee to Tony before it gets cold.” He feels his voice gentle as he says Tony’s name, but Thor doesn’t comment.

Thor shakes his head again. “As I say, you do not see your duty to care for us confined exclusively to the battlefield. Someone must make certain that you care for yourself.”

Steve lifts his plate of eggs a little higher and reaches out to grab one of the rolls off Thor’s plate with a disarming smile. “I’m fine, see?”

“And Tony? Does he not also require food?” teases Thor.

“He says he’s not hungry right now. I’ll take him dinner later,” Steve sighs.

It’s something he’s said any number of times before, but this time a storm of expressions crosses Thor’s face in response. “Ah,” he says, clearly settling on 'pleased,' “I see my intervention is too late.”

“Your…what?”

Thor smiles at him. “It is nothing. The Lady Natasha said I must attempt to be subtle and I fear telling you would break my word of honour to the Lady. But my congratulations all the same.”

“Right,” Steve mutters, embarrassed.

“Enjoy it, Captain. You deserve him, and he you.”

“I’m not sure I agree with you there, but I will try.”

“And that is all he can demand,” Thor reassures and Steve leaves under the scrutiny of blue eyes.

*

Tony is no longer curled in bed like the over-indulged cat he was impersonating when Steve left, but he hasn’t escaped to his workshop either. Steve offers the coffee, a bribe and an apology all at once and says, without preamble, “I hope you didn’t want to keep this a secret, Tony because-”

“Did you out us already?”

“I…don’t think so? But Thor just…knows. And Natasha.”

Tony waves a hand. “Well, okay. _Natasha_. I’m fairly sure that’s her super power. I’m at least 47% certain she’s a mutant. But Thor?”

“He’s surprisingly perceptive,” Steve defends himself.

“And you’re a surprisingly bad liar,” Tony points out.

Steve puts on his most pious expression. “Lying is bad for the soul.”

“Mine must be rotten to the core.”

Steve feels a flicker at that, but he shelved most of his Catholic superstitions around the time he wanted to…y’know…with another man. “You don’t lie. You tell the truth about people; that’s what makes them pissed off with you,” he says instead.

Tony laughs and takes a sip from the mug in his hand. “So, the whole tower knows?”

“Clint will as soon as Natasha speaks to him. Bruce doesn’t though. That’s something, right?”

Tony laughs again. “Wow, you are about to have the world’s most awkward shovel talk from Big Green, because if I don’t tell Brucie and he hears it from someone else, he will sulk. And I hate it when he’s angry with me.”

Steve brushes that aside. He doesn’t know exactly what 'shovel talk' means, but he can guess, and he suspects that he’s due for more than a few of them. Ms. Potts is bound to have something to say regarding this new development, and that's not to mention Colonel Rhodes’ rightly deserved rage. The Hulk is the least of his problems; all the doors in the tower are Tony-Stark-guaranteed 'Hulk proof'. He doesn’t think there’s anywhere on earth he could hide from the other two on the warpath. He’s determinedly not thinking about what _Peggy_ might say. “Are you..? I’m sorry,” he says again in a small voice.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says. He’s suddenly up against Steve, voice soft and stroking Steve’s hair back off his face. “I’m not mad or anything. I want everyone to know. Honestly, if it wasn’t in extremely bad taste, I‘d hang a banner declaring myself Captain America’s boyfriend from the top of the tower.”

“Really? You’re not just trying to make me feel better?”

“Steve, what has ever given you the impression that I like to hide personal details about my life?”

Steve gives him an odd look, “Uh…everything?”

Tony scowls. “You’re ruining my point. Stop it. The important thing is, I’m happy.”

Steve’s about to argue, but part of trusting Tony means taking his word about certain things. There’s no hint of a lie in his eyes or in the set of his shoulders, so Steve smiles instead. “Well then, can I take you for dinner tonight?”

The smile Tony gives him is, there’s no other word for it, shy. Steve watches him force it back, putting his usual smirk in its place, with slight fascination. “Do I get a corsage too?”

Once this might have offended him, but now he understands Tony. He knows that the sarcastic question means pleasure and happiness and is simply a front for a shyness which Tony has been taught to hide at all costs. “If you tell me what colour dress you’re wearing,” he agrees without batting an eyelid.

“Where are you taking me?” Tony demands instead.

“Uh…” for a second Steve isn’t sure. Nowhere he could possibly take Tony would be half as good as anywhere the billionaire could take himself, and he doesn’t want Tony to end up paying. He wants to take him out, to spoil him as he should always have been spoiled. The answer, when it comes to him, is so glaringly obvious he’s furious with himself that it took so much time to decide. “The pizza place I took you the first night we had dinner.”

He watches Tony sift through his memories and think back to the night Clint stole a half dozen penguins for him. The pizza had been average at best, but palatable. It had been one of the first times they had really talked, Tony making Steve laugh so hard coke had come out of his nose in an _extremely_ dignified way.

The soft, shy smile is back, but this time, Tony doesn’t hide it with snark and sarcasm and well-practised masks. “It’s a date,” he agrees softly.


End file.
